


Time to stop pretending

by Emrysmeanseternity



Series: Merlin One-shots and Drabbles [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gwen helps so do Morgana and Leon, M/M, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Merlin comes to terms with it, Mild Hurt/Comfort, arthur died, it's quite a sad story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24961063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emrysmeanseternity/pseuds/Emrysmeanseternity
Summary: Merlin finally comes to terms with Arthur's Death with the help of his friends.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Merlin One-shots and Drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654132
Kudos: 18





	Time to stop pretending

**Author's Note:**

> Not how I intended it to turn out. But ehh.   
> Enjoy. 
> 
> Still don't own Merlin. It still belongs to BBC and Shine.

The door opens and the movement makes the dust dance in the air. Merlin sneezes.

He waves his hand in front of his face and leans back, wafting the offending particles away from his sensitive nose.

The attic room hasn't been opened in years, he didn't feel the need to make himself suffer by going through memories and what might've beens: he knows he'll sit and go through all the albums and belongings if he tried, and he doesn't want that. But he needs to do the spring cleaning thoroughly. And he hates spiders.

Spiders keep popping up and making themselves comfortable in his usually immaculate home. It's cramping his style.

The pests have probably cob-webbed the place from ceiling to floor, that must be why they found their way into the other parts of his house.

_Oh Gods, my allergies are going to act up and I'll die sneezing._

Merlin steps inside the room, leaving the dim light coming from the corridor down the stairs. It's dark and he's forgotten where the light switch is.

He thinks it's by the door, and then he remembers that it's one of those pulley chain things in the middle of the room. _I_ _really should've brought a torch_. He stumbles through the boxes and plastic bags and trips, grabbing the chain by luck, and turning on the light, before face planting onto a dusty beanbag. At least he has _some_ luck on his side.

He sneezes. Once, twice, thrice, four times, five, six- he keeps going, it's best to stop counting.

He's probably sneezed all the dust off the beanbag by the time he stops, if not then he's at least created and tornado of it. Before most of it settles back down.

Merlin registers the beanbag, it's red and faux leather. It was Arthur's favourite.  
He looks around at all of Arthur's things—Merlin stuffed them up here after he died.

It doesn't smell like him anymore.

Merlin sighs, head hanging. He stands up, pulls on the rubber gloves and starts heaving the belongings down the stairs, one by one.

It takes him a while but, he finally manages to bring them all downstairs so he can clean.

There aren't as many spiders as he'd thought, maybe they died. _Good riddance._  
There are, however, cobwebs aplenty.  
Good thing he has a duster handy.

It's quiet but not suffocating, it's filled by the soft noises of him working.

He dusts and cleans and mops, and leaves the skylight open to air the room out. He's very efficient, too efficient.

There's not a surface that isn't clean and spotless after he's done.

Merlin slides down the carpeted steps like a child, beaming at the feeling of accomplishment and light-headedness that comes as a result of hardwork.

He sighs again, long and tired. Although, this is less to do with the work and more because of the pile of stuff he's been trying to skive off acknowledging.

Merlin sinks to his knees, the bags and boxes surrounding him. They're sealed and titled. _Arthur's things, Arthur's uni medals, Arthur's photos, me and Arthur's wedding album..._

He stands up again, goes to find something to cut the tape with. Grabbing scissors from the kitchen drawer he scores the tape and peels open the flaps of the cardboard boxes.

One by one.

He tries to pretend that it doesn't hurt, but it does. And when the tears fall he can't stop them, doesn't _want_ to stop them.

Merlin finally let's himself cry— the feeling he'd been holding back, pretending they didn't exist flow out like a dam burst open.

Every photo, every medal, every scarf and jumper makes him sob and heave until he's left empty and dry. And feeling worse than before.

Merlin wipes his face with his sleeve and puts the things back in their places.

He leaves the boxes out.

It's dark, he spent all day cleaning the attic. Merlin climbs into bed after dinner. His pyjamas comfortable but, lacking– always lacking.

He cuddles into Arthur's jumper, it's soft and it feels safe, smiling in his sleep.

The next time he looks at Arthur's things, he's invited Morgana over. They look at all his things, and tell stories. Merlin cries, Morgana does too.

Merlin starts looking at them more often. The albums become frayed with use. The spine is bent and the creases on the pages are beyond trying to fix.

He feels better, the more he looks at them. He invites Gwen over, and Leon, they talk and laugh too. Leon let's himself cry too. Arthur was like a brother to him.

They don't have to be strong, and they don't have to pretend.

His house feels more alive than it has in three years. It's buzzing with memories and feelings.

The pain of loss isn't gone but it's better, he's surrounded by people who love him and who love Arthur.

He visits the headstone with Arthur's name on it. It simple, and someone's put fresh flowers down.

 _Gwen_ , he thinks when he reads the note.

Merlin kneels down, and reaches his fingers out to stroke the engraved lettering of Arthur's name.

He sighs and says, "Oh, Arthur. I wonder where you are now. It's been so hard, but I didn't even know. I buried myself in work. I've been trying to pretend that you didn't die," he huffy a self-deprecating and a sob escapes with it, "that you were on some long holiday, or you had to move to work. I kept thinking you'd come back. It never hit me that you wouldn't.

"And then I remembered all your things in the attic. The house was usually littered with your things. It felt so empty without them. Your medal cabinet has been refilled, and I've kept the albums on the bookshelf now.

"It took Morgana and Gwen to help me stop. The house feels much more alive, and it hurts less to look at your smiling face in the albums and realise I'll never see it in real life again. I love you, I'll never stop loving you."

The tears stream down his face. He stays sitting there for a long time.  
When he finally wipes his tears and stands to leave, he doesn't look back. Knowing he'll never be able to let go if he does.

He will always love Arthur. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, feel free to kudos and comment, if not, do nothing at all.   
> But improvements are great too, I'm all for constructive criticism.


End file.
